“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. (There was also this guy named Mario who hung around. Everybody liked Mario. Or at least, nobody disliked him.) The fearful passage of their death-marked love And the continuance of their parents’ rage, Which, but their children’s end, naught could remove, is now (about one act of this play). The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”